Chichester Psalms (1965) - Leonard Bernstein (1918—1990)

In 1965, Leonard Bernstein received an invitation from the Very Reverend Walter Hussey, Dean of Chichester Cathedral, to compose a new choral work for that summer's Southern Cathedrals Festival — a gathering of the choirs of Chichester, Winchester and Salisbury. Hussey was a passionate advocate for contemporary sacred art, having previously commissioned works from Benjamin Britten, Henry Moore and Graham Sutherland. He wrote to Bernstein hoping for something “tuneful, direct and simple,” and Bernstein responded in exactly that spirit.

The resulting Chichester Psalms is one of the most radiant and uplifting works in Bernstein's output — a joyful fusion of faith, theatre and dance. It is written for a boy (or countertenor) soloist, mixed chorus and orchestra and in a ‘reduced' version for organ, harp and percussion (which we perform tonight). The work sets six texts from the Hebrew Book of Psalms in their original language. It was first performed not at Chichester, but in New York, where Bernstein conducted the New York Philharmonic in the premiere on 15 July 1965. The British premiere at Chichester Cathedral followed soon after.

Bernstein was at the height of his fame in the 1960s, celebrated worldwide as conductor, composer, pianist and educator. Yet at the time he began Chichester Psalms, he was weary and disillusioned after struggling with the demands of public life. He had just abandoned work on an ambitious but darkly modernist symphony, Kaddish, and was searching for something that could reconnect him with joy and simplicity. In a letter to Hussey, Bernstein described what he hoped to achieve:

“This will be a sort of easy-going piece — old-fashioned tonality and interesting rhythms. It's quite popular in feeling, even a bit Broadwayish at times. It's all very young and open-hearted.”

That description captures the essence of Chichester Psalms: tonal, rhythmic, accessible and brimming with optimism. It draws on Bernstein's distinctive musical language — blending the sacred intensity of the synagogue with the rhythmic vitality of jazz and the sweeping melodic freedom of Broadway. The result is music that feels both ancient and unmistakably modern, devotional yet alive with the pulse of the 20th century.

The work is in three movements, each combining contrasting Psalms to form a dramatic and emotional journey — from exuberant praise, through conflict and struggle, to serenity and unity.

I. Psalm 108:2 & Psalm 100

“Urah, hanevel, v'chinor” — “Awake, psaltery and harp!” “Hari'u l'Adonai kol ha'arets” — “Make a joyful noise unto the Lord.”

The opening movement begins with an exultant cry in the organ and percussion: a bold, irregular 7/4 rhythm drives the choir's call to awaken the instruments and praise God. The music is exhilarating, dance-like and full of Bernstein's characteristic syncopations.

The second section, a setting of Psalm 100, maintains the sense of rhythmic vitality but turns more melodic and lyrical. It's a jubilant expression of worship, evoking the sound of ancient psalmody filtered through Bernstein's distinctly American musical voice. The movement closes as it began — bright, exuberant and full of life.

II. Psalm 23 & Psalm 2

“Adonai ro'i” — “The Lord is my shepherd.”

“Lamah rag'shu goyim” — “Why do the nations rage?”

The central movement is the emotional heart of the work. A solo alto voice introduces the serene melody of Psalm 23, a tender, flowing lullaby. The accompaniment rocks gently like a pastoral dance, creating one of Bernstein's most beloved melodies — simple, radiant and deeply touching.

This peace is soon shattered by the men's voices declaiming the furious words of Psalm 2: “Why do the nations rage, and the people imagine a vain thing?” Their fierce, angular rhythms and harsh dissonances create a stark contrast with the soloist's innocent song. Gradually, these two musical worlds — the pastoral and the violent — collide, intertwine and finally dissolve into a quiet reconciliation.

III. Psalm 131 & Psalm 133:1

“Adonai, lo gavah libi” — “Lord, my heart is not haughty.”

“Hineh mah tov” — “Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.”

The final movement begins in hushed tones, a gentle statement of humility and trust. Bernstein's music here is simple and sincere, unfolding in warm, flowing lines. Gradually, the mood broadens into a vision of harmony and peace with the words of Psalm 133: “Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.”

The closing pages bring the work to a tranquil and radiant conclusion. A final “Amen” drifts away into silence — not in triumph, but in contentment. It is as if, after the joy and the struggle of the earlier movements, the soul has found rest.

Chichester Psalms stands apart in Bernstein's output for its sincerity and spiritual warmth. It is a celebration of faith in its most open-hearted form — joyful, human and inclusive. Though rooted in Bernstein's Jewish heritage, the music transcends religious boundaries. Its rhythms and melodies speak of humanity's shared longing for peace, its beauty lying in its blend of exuberance and humility.

By choosing to set the Psalms in Hebrew rather than in translation, Bernstein preserved their original rhythmic character and connection to ancient chant. Yet the music remains unmistakably American, infused with syncopation, energy and dramatic contrast. The fusion of these worlds — the ancient and the modern, the sacred and the theatrical — is what makes Chichester Psalms so compelling and enduring.

Bernstein's original sketches even included musical ideas left over from West Side Story and other stage works. In this sacred context, those rhythms and melodies take on new meaning: the exuberance of praise, the innocence of faith and the yearning for unity.

In the decades since its premiere, Chichester Psalms has become one of the cornerstones of the choral repertoire. It is both a concert work and a prayer — a testament to Bernstein's belief that all music, sacred or secular, should “reach out and touch people.”

The final blessing, “Behold how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity” feels as resonant today as ever — a musical vision of peace, compassion and shared humanity.